Poles Apart
by Please.Insert.Name
Summary: For someone that knew a lot about human emotions, there is a difference to observing and experiencing for oneself, and so, when it comes to love, Charles Xavier is baffled. He believes Erik Lensherr can provide the answers to his questions, but at what cost?


_'It is in your moments of decision that your destiny is shaped'_  
_~ Tony Robbins_

* * *

Charles was no stranger to the human mind. He had witnessed the thoughts of thousands in his short life. When he was a student he heard the jumbled thoughts of his peers. Some were just a mess of stress and worries. It was in those days that he had lost some of his faith in love. Or at least what humans professed to be love. Those who would talk about their partners non-stop, only to betray them in a drunken tangle of limbs and lust. The guilt that followed was almost unbearable, but not as bad as the small few who felt relief.

Studying to be a Professor he got a glimpse at the older world. Men twice his age, ones whom he would have thought smarter than to fall into the same trap as the decadent students of his younger years, proved to be no exception. What on the outside seemed to be a faculty night out, unwinding in a bar would beneath the surface be a group of men drowning their sorrows. Whisky was generally the spirit of choice. Many dipping their beaks trying to forget about the guilt surrounding thoughts of their spouses and children who hindered their careers, and the almost inevitable leap for freedom by going for the younger, prettier secretaries who helped the university run smoothly during the day.

Of course it wasn't all bad. Far from it in fact. He had felt the joy of first love, he hadn't experienced it himself, but feeling others gave him some glimpse of the feeling that had mystified poets since the days of Catulus. The only pattern, however, was that it seemed to _end_. Sometimes it lasted years - as he had witnessed with some of his colleagues - but then one day the flame that has once burned so brightly was extinguished, only a small plume of smoke remaining to remind the heart of the raging inferno of bygone years.

He was very much aware that his wasn't the only type of love. His love for Raven would not - could not - diminish over time. But she was a sister to him, and whilst that satisfied his heart in some ways, he couldn't help but want more.

No matter how many times he used his knowledge of genetic mutation to woo a member of either sex, he could read their every thought, and not one of his partners had ever loved him nor had he them. Raven joked that he was an old man, and in some ways she was right. He had experienced the pain of love ending, the collapse of a marriage that had once been as strong as gravity's hold on man.

But none of that mattered since it wasn't_ him._

When he first touched the mind of Erik Lensherr he had never thought a mind filled with that much hatred would ever allow him to experience the feeling that had eluded him as much as it had overwhelmed him in his life.

The water was freezing as he wrapped his strong arms around the German's broad chest, but none of that compared to the mutant's thoughts.

In a whirl of pain and despair he was transported to one of the many infamous Concentration Camps. He saw his mother being taken away; his time as a lab rat undergoing tortures that would stay with him until he was an old man; the crippling anguish as his mother crumpled before him, taken down by a bullet because he wasn't good enough...

It was only when he reached that finale memory he realised the true motivation behind Erik's insane struggle was not anger. Anger was a powerful emotion, it had driven many on suicidal quests for vengeance. Many would see the mutant with the power to control metal as being driven by it, but not Charles. Of all the minds he had seen Erik Lensherr's mind was like an iceberg: _What was shown on the surface was less than half of the story._

His true reasons were so buried that he doubted his friend knew his driving emotion was the opposite of hate. Quite simply, it was love, and out of all the _'love'_ that Charles had experienced, this was the fiercest.

At the Manor in the darkest corners of his own mind, he yearned to feel half the passion that man felt. He wanted to know what the all consuming fires felt like. But whilst a telepath cannot be deceived by others, he can be deceived by himself. Touching Erik's mind a second time, bringing forth the purest memory in his mind he realised he had been doing that all along. Whilst he wanted to feel what it was like to be in a love as strong as Erik's, he also wanted to be loved just as much. It wasn't as if he desired this blindly, seeing how complex his friend's mind was, how innocent he was underneath all the suffering, he realised he wanted _him._ His emotions went deeper than his peers and colleagues, they weren't just for himself, he wanted to show Erik that not every human - mutant or otherwise - was poisonous and power hungry.

Even as he lay on the beach, unable to feel his legs he never let go. He respected Erik, he wouldn't touch his mind if the other did not grant him permission, but telepathy wasn't something you could switch off completely. He could feel the powerful emotions in the man. He knew that whilst ideologically they would never agree, he would always be inspired by the passion his friend - he refused to think of him as an enemy, different ideologies did not automatically make him his nemesis - held for his.

As Erik cradled him, choking Moira as punishment for a consequence that truly was his fault, their eyes locked for a moment. In that second Charles allowed his feelings to show. He was vulnerable physically, he might as well be emotionally.

Pain flickered through Erik's eyes for a moment, the comprehension evident, but in the next second his gaze was as hard as the metal he could control.

The moment passed, in the next one he was gone, whirled away in a flash of demonic red.

Whilst it felt wrong not having him there, Charles was no fool. This was how it was meant to be. In his life he had seen many who were in love, he had seen more who had fallen foul of it. For someone who sometimes felt he knew everything, the firsthand pain of something he had been a witness to so many times felt like a punch to the chest, and for the first time since his powers presented themselves he felt shock.

Miles away far out of the range of his natural telepathic abilities, he would never know that Erik Lensherr felt the same.

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_A/N: This is my first X-Men fanfiction. I watched First Class for the third or fourth time last night, and the dynamic between Charles and Erik fascinates me. I hope this isn't a complete letdown, but I'd appreciate it if you review to tell me your thoughts. _:)_  
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_DISCLAIMER: I do not own X-Men. *sigh*_


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